


Besos

by HaniBani



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Cooking, Cute boys, Laughter, M/M, Music, Ocean, Pride, multiple prompts, spamano week 2018
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-25
Updated: 2018-06-30
Packaged: 2019-05-28 14:14:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 6,705
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15050912
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HaniBani/pseuds/HaniBani
Summary: A collection of short drabbles set to prompts for Spamano Week, 2018!





	1. Besos

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm trying my hand at Spamano Week this year!  
> The first day's prompt: Music  
> Title: Besos
> 
> Rated T for language and sexual themes.

_Smooooooch!_

Romano jumped in his seat, toast falling to his plate as Spain withdrew from planting a massive kiss to his cheek. “…The fuck was that for?” he asked, shooting a suspicious glance at the other nation, who was already retreating to grab his mug of coffee from the counter. Spain grinned at him from over his shoulder. Romano saw him lift a thumb to swipe away some jam sitting on his lower lip; he licked it clean and winked.

Romano made a strangled noise and scrubbed the heel of his palm across his cheek. Spain chuckled and continued for his coffee. Romano dissolved into grumbles and downed his own espresso shot.

 

_Smooooooch!_

“There is _no way_ there was food up there,” Romano said, squinting as he brushed his bangs over his forehead. 

Spain settled back in his chair across the corner from Romano’s seat at the patio table. “No,” he agreed, “but you know, those frown lines will give you a headache. It’s only noon! Save those scowls for later in the day!”

Romano shot Spain a rude, one-fingered gesture, and took a large bite out of his sandwich.

 

_Smooooooch!_

_“Okay!”_ Romano wrenched his hand from Spain’s grasp, knuckles still buzzing from the kiss left there. He slapped both his palms down on the dinner table and half-rose from his chair. “What _gives?_ ”

Spain smiled softly at him. “Nothing. I just wanted to.”

Romano froze, face flushing. Then, after a moment, he shoved his finished plate to the center of the table, grabbed Spain by the collar, and with a roll of his eyes, dragged him to the bedroom.

 

The next day transpired the same as before:

_Smooooooch!_ : “You looked like you needed a good-morning kiss!”

_Smooooooch!_ : “Collecting some payment for making lunch!”

_Smooooooch!_ : “The sunset is so beautiful, Roma, I just couldn’t resi—“ 

Romano knew something was definitely up at this point, but that still didn’t stop him from cutting Spain off by crawling into his lap with an exasperated groan and instigating a replay of the previous night.

 

On the third morning, Romano shuffled down the stairs to the sound of humming coming from the kitchen. He thought nothing of it at first — Spain’s singing was far from a novel occurrence in his home, especially while cooking — but when the humming broke out into words, all of a sudden the song sounded familiar. Pausing on the bottom step, Romano cocked an eyebrow and leaned forward to try and decipher just what it was.

The lyrics flowed through the house. _“…eso es lo que quiero, besos…!”_

_“AHHH!”_ Romano yelled, jumping to the floor, socked-feet slipping on the wood as he scrambled to the kitchen. He reached for the threshold with one hand, used it to right himself, and thrust the other out before him to point at Spain in accusation. “I knew it, I fucking _knew it!_ ” 

“Romano?! What—“

_“BESOS!”_

Spain froze, torso swiveled comically to look at Romano, bowl and whisk still in hand. He blinked twice before breaking out into a grin. “Okay!” 

To his chagrin, Romano couldn’t really fault Spain for taking the opportunity to cross the room and swoop him into his arms — he’d walked into that one completely. Spain kissed him with quite a surprising amount of passion for so early in the morning, the taste of his first cup of coffee mixing with the leftover hints of Romano’s toothpaste. With an internal shrug, Romano indulged in the kiss for a few moments, even going so far as to bring a hand up to cup the base of Spain’s head before twisting his fingers in the hairs at the nape of his neck and tugging him away.

“So _that’s_ what’s been going on,” Romano murmured, lips quirked. His other hand joined the first in absently threading through the ends of Spain’s hair. “You’ve been listening to El Canto del Loco.”

Spain’s eyes twinkled. “I dug out their CD a couple of days ago. It’s good summer music.”

“You’re a sap.”

“I’m your sap!”

“You’re also terrible at comebacks.”

Spain settled his hands low on either side of Romano’s waist. “So what do you say?” he began with a toothy grin. “Wanna wake up to some more kisses?”

Romano snorted and used the leverage he had around Spain’s neck to pull him down and do just that.

 

_Y eso es lo que quiero, besos_

_Todas las mañanas me despierten besos_

_Sea por la tarde y siga habiendo besos_

_Luego por la noche hoy me den más besos pa' cenar_

 

_And that's what I want, kisses!_

_I want to be awakened with kisses every morning,_

_And to have the kisses continue during the afternoon,_

_And then, at night, I want to be given_

_More kisses for dinner!_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Inspired by the song Besos, by El Canto del Loco.
> 
> Translation slightly modified from the one provided by citruswind here: https://lyricstranslate.com/en/besos-kisses.html-0


	2. Turbulent

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Spamano week continues!  
> ...I missed day two, so I figured I would rope that one together with day seven's prompt.  
> So here's to day three!
> 
> Day Three Prompt: Ocean  
> Title: Turbulent 
> 
> Rated T for language and mild gore.

“It’s fucking disgusting out.”

“ _Si,_ Romano.”

Spain tilted his head back against the headrest of the driver’s seat, staring down his nose at the winding road before them.

“What’s the point of going to a fucking _beach house_ in weather like this.”

“We’ll figure something out.”

Romano made an unimpressed noise and jammed his elbow into the ridge below the car window, resting his cheek against the knuckles of his fist. A terse silence filled the cabin, broken only by the uptempo song that passed through the stereo at a low volume.

 

_“Y pensar que lo que escribo_

_Puede ser tan importante_

_Que toque algún corazón.”_

 

Romano groaned. “… _Again?_ ”

“It’s catchy.”

“For the third fucking time in a row?”

“You want to listen to something else?”

“No, not really.”

Spain grit his teeth and gripped the steering wheel a little tighter. Dark grey storm clouds rolled overhead, serving only to exacerbate Romano’s foul mood as the raindrops that pounded against the hood of the car sped up in tempo to match the tension in the air. Only half an hour left, Spain approximated as they passed a familiar gas station. He made no move to change the CD.

Eventually they reached his modest villa, nestled within shallow cliffs and overlooking a small, rocky beach. Romano kicked open the door and hopped out before the car came to a complete stop. Spain turned off the engine and sat there in solitude, attempting to calm his heartbeat and tune out the muffled grumbling rounding the perimeter from the outside, even if for only a moment. The effort proved to be in vain — Romano slammed both his palms twice against the curve of the trunk and then shook the entire car for good measure. Spain released an aggravated grunt and reached down to pop the lever.

“…Shouldn’t _be_ here,” Romano continued to grumble as they trudged up the pathway to the house. “I’ve got _shit_ to do back home.” He shot a scowl at Spain that was half-obscured by soaked bangs covering his eyes. “I didn’t sign up for this.”

Spain bit the inside of the cheek. “We both needed a break,” he ground out. “Forgive me for pulling some strings and clearing you up for _two days_.”

“I don’t recall signing up for your _sass_ , either.”

Spain inhaled sharply and bit down harder, tasting iron.

Once inside, he made his way for the kitchen in search of a glass of water. Romano followed, talking at Spain’s back and making his thoughts clear on the audacity of his actions when _there is_ more _than enough water coming from the fucking_ sky — _or haven’t you noticed? Why don’t you just go and stand out there with your mouth open, you idiot._

Trying his best to let Romano’s attitude slide, Spain calmly lifted the faucet handle and zeroed in on the rising pitch of the water filling his glass. He shut the tap off, took a long sip—

Turned to see Romano running a single finger through a thin sheet of dust on the island counter and cocking an accusing eyebrow.

 _CRACK_.

“ _HOLY—!“_

A flash of lightning, followed by a deafening thunderclap, reverberated throughout the house. The last of Spain’s resolve had shattered, along with the glass in his hand, which now lay scattered across the floor in pieces. Spain and Romano froze, gazes fixed on his hand. A number of shallow gashes littered across his palm, sending blood running down his wrist. It fell to the floor in drops and mixed with the spreading puddles of water, turning them a diluted red.

Spain stared at the wound, heart pounding in his ears, only just aware of Romano’s voice: “Shit, _shit,_ are you okay? Scared the _hell_ out of me, what the _fuck_ was that abou—“

“I have to go,” Spain said. His voice came out in a strained, graveled whisper as he backed away. A fire that was completely separate from the physical pain he felt licked at the sides of his ribcage. He closed his hand, not caring as a few pieces of glass lodged further into the cuts. “I have to go,” he repeated.

“ _What?_ ” Romano rounded the island as Spain made for the terrace door. “Look,  _Jesus_ , Spain, I’m sor— Let me—“

“If you don’t _leave me alone_ , Romano, _so help me_ —“

_CLASH._

The action of throwing the door open, coupled with a second thunderclap, muffled Spain’s threat. Without looking back, he strode across the red tiles and continued down the narrow path that lead to the ocean.

Loud as the growing storm had become, Spain could still hear the crash of waves heightened by the sea wind below. He followed the sound, stomping down between the cliffs until he reached the water-worn stones at the shore. Here, secluded at last, he was left to confront the flare of anger that raged through his chest. Spain plopped down on a nearby rock and set to plucking away the individual pieces of glass that stuck into his skin. Then, with a grimace, he held out his palm to allow the rain to wash it clean.

The wind whipped around him. Turbulent. Spain sighed.

This was a turbulent time for all of them. Election season was upon much of the world, Romano and Feliciano’s own having passed just a couple months prior. Spain hunched over and rested his forearms on his knees, looking out to the ocean. While he knew those two to handle change better than anyone, that didn’t stop Romano from winding up with internalized stress behind closed doors every turnaround, especially during major potential parliament changes such as this. It had become clear to Spain over the past few weeks just how uptight Romano had grown — so sue him for thinking the other nation could use a _mere couple days’_ worth of downtime.

If only Romano would actually allow himself to relax. And not be such a prick in the process.

Spain picked up a sizable pebble and pelted it far into the ocean with as much strength as he could manage. Then he did it again, and again. He reached down for a fourth one — but this time he was surprised to find that his fingers came into contact not with the grit of stone, but with something much smoother. Blinking the rain from his eyes, Spain glanced down and saw what looked like _glass,_ curved in shape and half-buried in the sand. He dug his good hand into the ground to pull it up.

It was a bottle. A… very old one, actually, and… was something in there?

Spain brought the bottle closer to inspect it, but the cloudiness of the glass obscured its contents from view. Quirking an eyebrow, he gripped the cork between his teeth and pulled it out with a sharp _‘pop’_. Lifting it to his face, he closed one eye and peered through the mouth with the other.

There was a coil of paper inside. … _A letter in a bottle?_ Curiosity sparked, Spain looked around until he spotted a small cliff ledge that jutted out over the beach, providing just enough shelter to keep the sand beneath it dry from the storm. He made for it, and once situated under its protection, he gripped the bottle by the neck and smashed it against a nearby rock to break the glass (careful in the process to avoid a repeat of the incident before). The paper, or rather, _parchment_ , fluttered to the ground. Spain bent over and picked it up, squinting to make out the worn message sprawled across the page.

 

_S,_

_Don’t you think a month is a little long? My hand is fucking cramping after writing all these letters. I think my eyesight’s going from writing so much at night. So if I lose either of those, it’s your fault. You’re a jerk. And a bastard._

_The tomatoes are finally in season. B made us something new for dinner tonight. Tomatoes stuffed with shrimp. It was really good, so I told her that, and she gave me a hug. She’s so pretty. It’s a good thing her name is B because I get to call her pretty all day. I used the hug as a distraction to leave the room and steal a servant’s plate. No one caught me! Maybe you shouldn’t come home after all, idiot. I basically get to do whatever I want when you’re away. Yeah, maybe you should just stay wherever the hell you are._

_I wonder if you’ve had any tomatoes yet. Probably not, since they go bad so quick. I bet you cry yourself to sleep every night because you miss tomatoes so much, you tomato-eating bastard! You know, I almost thought about shoving a tomato into this bottle for you, but then I realized that’s a fucking dumb idea and doesn’t make any sense. You’d better be grateful I’m so smart! I’m a goddamn prodigy!_

_It’s late. A moth keeps flying over my candle. I should probably blow it out before the stupid thing ignites itself. You better not be writing any of your letters at night! I’m allowed to write them at night because I’m on land! If you burn down your ship, then that means you have to go down with it because you’re the captain, and I bet that would be really fucking painful. Also, I’d have to wait at least another month for you to swim back here. And I’m dying of boredom, so you need to come back sooner than that, okay?_

_…Alright, I’m going to be honest. I’ve been writing these shitty things for weeks. I know they’re never going to make it to you, but goddamn it, like I said, I’m bored. And if this is never going to reach you anyways, I guess maybe I should just write down why I’ve been going to all this trouble and shit. Maybe if I just get it out once, then it’ll be done with and I’ll feel better._

_I keep getting all these fucking letters about all this fucking bullshit that’s been going on over at my land, and it’s just a lot, okay? I’m stressed out all the time. And I know I shoot it down because you’re a fucking sap about it, but you always know exactly what to say to make me feel better. And then you make me food. How can that not make me feel better? So I guess I just fucking miss you, you jerk bastard. So you should drag your idiot self back here soon. For the sake of my sanity._

_R_

 

~*~

 

The rain had lessened by the time Spain returned to the villa. In the clarity, he could see Romano bent over the kitchen island, head in his hands, darkened phone lying silent next to his elbow. Spain stood there for a few moments before he sighed and crossed the patio.

“ _Spain!_ ” Romano gasped, scrambling down from the high-rise stool the second Spain slid open the door. The kitchen was filled with the pleasant, orange scent of floor cleaner. Romano was in front of him in an instant, grabbing his hand to inspect the wound before tugging him over to the counter where an open first aid kit sat.

“You idiot…” he let out, voice quiet as he unscrewed a bottle of antiseptic. He doused a gauze pad in it, and with shaking hands, began to wipe short strokes over the jagged cuts. Spain winced at the sting but otherwise did nothing. After it was clean, Romano looped a strip of bandage around his hand. He paused then, staring down at the crumpled, bloodied gauze that rested on the counter.

“Romano, I—”

Romano shook his head. “Just… _don’t,_ ” he said without malice as he stuck a couple pieces of tape over the bandages to hold them together. He turned Spain’s hand over to check his work, and when he was finished, held it in both of his own. His brows were furrowed, the displeased expression on his face self-directed. Spain had a sudden urge to kiss those frown lines away.

A long stretch of silence passed between them, and then:

“ _I’m so fucking sorry,_ ” Romano said. “I’ve been a complete jackass.”

“You really have been,” Spain replied.

Romano winced. “I pushed you too hard. …It’s _so fucking shitty_ to admit this, but it… it felt good to dump that stress on you.” Spain took in a deep breath and then let it out slowly. “I know it’s no excuse, _I know_ , but things have been so… so…”

“Turbulent?”

“…Yeah. I’m just… I’m just really fucking anxious about being away from it all, like I…” Romano let out a low, exasperated grunt, and gripped Spain’s hand a little tighter. “I know you’re trying to help. You always… you always know what to do.” He tilted his head down, hiding a flushed face behind his bangs. “I guess I just don’t know if I’m ready to let go of this stress yet.”

“You need to, Romano,” Spain said with a sigh, running a thumb across the other man’s palm. “Believe me, no one is going to put up with you if you continue to choose to vent like this. Not me, not Feli, not even the _Pope._ ”

Romano snorted despite himself. Spain smiled and brought his other hand up to cup the back of Romano’s head, coaxing him closer so he could press his lips to his forehead. “Let’s have a fresh start,” he said, nuzzling his nose into Romano’s hairline. “We’re already here — we have two days. Let’s actually try and relax.”

Romano pulled back and squinted at him. “When did _you_ turn into such a fucking saint?”

At that, Spain broke into a true grin. He retracted his hand and absently stuck it in his back pocket, feeling the crisp parchment folded there. “Just looking out for your sanity,” he said.

Romano quirked an eyebrow, before rolling his eyes and bringing Spain’s injured hand to his lips. In the shadow of the rescinding storm, Spain could only just barely make out the words _“Thank you,_ ” mouthed silently into the bandages.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I like to use Bella as Belgium’s human name. _Bella_ also means _beautiful_ in Italian.
> 
> Lyrics translation:
> 
>  
> 
> _And to think that what I write_  
>  _Could be so important_  
>  _That it touches some heart_
> 
>  
> 
> From "Canciones" by El Canto del Loco
> 
> Translation by Vimto12 on https://lyricstranslate.com/en/canciones-songs.html


	3. Stepping Stones

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Pride Month, everyone!!
> 
> Day Four: Pride  
> Title: Stepping Stones
> 
> Rated T for language and sexual themes.

Romano leaned back against the wall of the hallway, arms folded across his chest. Tapping his foot with nervous energy, his eyes flickered every few seconds to the thick, wooden doors to his left. He checked his watch. Beside him, Veneziano chewed his cuticles.

“Stop that,” Romano murmured. “You’ll make yourself sick.”

Veneziano paused and stared at him, then down at his fingernails. “Oh. Yeah. Thanks.” He let out an apprehensive chuckle. “I’m so nervous.”

“…Me too.”

Veneziano pressed his palms flat against the plaster behind him. “It feels different this time around,” he whispered.

“Yeah,” Romano replied. He glanced at Veneziano from the corner of his eye. “Do you think it’ll pass?”

“I don’t know, but…” Veneziano trailed off, unspoken words hanging in the air.

_I hope it does._

Five minutes ticked by. Romano continued to tap his foot. Veneziano redirected his attention to unbuttoning and re-buttoning his shirt cuffs. Eventually he broke the silence to let out a groan. “What’s _taking_ them so long?”

“It hasn’t been that long,” Romano responded, however his voice was strained with the same impatience as his brother’s.

Veneziano began to pace the width of the hallway, one sleeve fastened and the other abandoned. “What if it _doesn’t_ pass?” he agonized.

“They’ll keep reintroducing it. It’ll pass. Eventually. We’re so close.”

Veneziano moaned. “I need some wine.”

“…Me too.”

Just then, the room on the other side of the wall erupted into applause. Romano and Veneziano stilled and looked at each other in surprise. _“…Romano,”_ Veneziano breathed. Behind them, the wooden doors opened with a _‘clank’_ of the metal push bar. The sound of clapping filled the hallway as a page stepped through to address them. 

“It passed?” Veneziano asked her, eyes wide.

The young woman nodded, unable to conceal a grin. “It passed.”

Veneziano gasped and nearly leapt into the air. _“It passed!”_ He bounded over to Romano and threw his arms around him. “Romano, it _passed!”_

Romano stood there for a moment, arms plastered to his sides as his brother proceeded to hug him as tightly as possible. A commotion began to stir around them. The push bar of the door _‘clacked’_ again and again as people exited the room, all of them talking excitedly. The applause was still going on from inside, its duration now almost a minute long. Romano listened to it for a total of seven additional seconds, and on the eighth, his pent-up tension released itself in one long exhale. With his next breath came a single, relieved laugh. “…It did,” he said. “It actually did…!” In a sudden surge of emotion, Romano returned Veneziano’s hug, matching his strength and then some.

Veneziano pulled away and wiped a stray tear from his eye. “I have to go tell Germany!” he exclaimed.

Romano nodded, feeling lightheaded. Somewhere from deep within in the center of his heart, a pinprick of exhilaration had ignited, sending shocks down his arms. He reached into his back pocket and retrieved his phone.“Yeah… Yeah, I should—“

_“Vuelve! Porque ya te has ido estoy vacío—!“_

Romano jumped as the device suddenly lit up and vibrated with an incoming call. In his shock, his fingers fumbled and it fell to the floor — thankfully Veneziano was there to catch it before it hit the carpet. “How the _hell—”_ began Romano as his brother straightened and checked the caller ID.

Veneziano laughed. “Looks like he’s got you beat!” he said, handing the phone back.

Romano looked down at the screen and snorted at the audacity of the situation. _“Jesus,_ I guess he has…”

“Well, okay, then! I’m gonna head out!” Veneziano said, his own phone now in hand. He started down the hallway, but paused and turned before he got too far. “And fratello!” he chirped from over his shoulder.

“Yeah?”

“ _It passed!_ Congrats!”

Romano broke out into a grin. “Congrats, Feli!”

 

~*~

 

Romano knew many nations who preferred to spend their rare free time in peace — like Japan, who resided in a traditional-style house bordered by forests and rice fields; or Switzerland, who lived with Liechtenstein in a small rural village nestled within the Alps; or Spain, who had flown in from his country estate only an hour prior. But it was here, splayed out across the couch in his living room and looking down over the city of Rome from on high, that Romano felt truly alive. A constant stream of hollers, cheers, and laughter resounded through the streets. Romano marveled at how he could feel this dizzy with euphoria without ever having had a single drop to drink.

He was laying on top of Spain, their bodies pressed together from chest to toe, his hands moving restlessly as though he couldn’t quite make up his mind on where to settle them. Caught up in the excitement that poured from his people, Romano pressed his lips over and over to every inch of Spain’s skin he could reach, landing on his mouth only a small percentage of the time. Spain laughed and brought his hands up to cup the sides of Romano’s face, guiding him in so they could kiss properly. 

Romano slid his fingers into Spain’s hair and let out a low noise, immediately opening his mouth so their tongues could slide together. Spain answered with an appreciative hum and snaked a hand around Romano’s back to urge him even closer.

“Sorry,” Romano panted when they finally parted for air. He was grinning from ear to ear. “I don’t know, I just _feel…_ I feel like my skin’s _buzzing.”_

Spain grinned back at him, running a thumb across his cheek. “Don’t be sorry. Believe me, I understand. Remember 2005?”

“Oh, _God,”_ Romano groaned, leaning in to capture Spain’s lower lip between his teeth. 

Spain chuckled from deep within his chest and returned Romano’s kiss the best he could before pulling away and looking him in the eye. “I’m so happy for you,” he said with a warm smile.

Romano caught Spain’s wrist and ran his lips along the pulse point there. “I know it’s not perfect,” he said, "but it’s _something._ It’s a stepping stone. We’re _getting there,_ Spain! Soon… _soon…!”_

Spain drew him back in. “Soon,” he affirmed, lips moving against Romano’s. 

Romano nodded enthusiastically and, unable to help himself, sat up for the tenth time to look out the window behind the couch. The streets were filled with flashes of color. He couldn’t remember the last time he felt this _happy._

“Let’s go join them,” Spain said suddenly.

Romano turned to look down at him, pausing just for a moment to admire the sight of his thighs straddling his partner’s. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“I don’t think I have anything rainbow.”

Spain grinned. “I bet there’s plenty of stuff being passed around down there.” He shifted himself up onto his forearms and leaned forward to place his lips over Romano’s heart. “Let’s go to the Trevi Fountain,” he murmured.

Romano’s ran his fingers through Spain’s hair and felt his chest swell. He tilted Spain’s head back and kissed him deeply, breathing in the buzz of the celebration that raced through Rome. “Okay,” he agreed once they parted. “Let’s go.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A bit of background:  
> On May 11th, 2016, the Italian government passed recognition of same-sex civil unions in a vote of 372 to 51. Italy still has yet to legalize same-sex marriage.
> 
> The ringtone is from the song “Vuelve” by El Canto del Loco.


	4. Making Up

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Day five, day five!!
> 
> This is a sequel to “Turbulent”, taking place the morning after.
> 
> Day Five: Cooking/Food  
> Title: Making Up
> 
> Rated T for language and sexual themes

Romano woke to the sound of waves splashing gently against the cliffs below the villa. A soft light filtered through sheer curtains that flowed in the breeze of the open window. Outside, a group of thin, grey clouds were dissipating from the sky — the last vestiges of the thunderstorm from the evening prior. Romano let out a soft, graveled noise and arched upwards, feeling the vertebrae in his neck and lower back adjust. He turned his head to see a set of broad, tanned shoulders rising and falling with languid breaths. Even from behind, Spain was gorgeous.

_‘Christ, I’m an idiot,’_ Romano thought as he slung an arm across his forehead. After the display he’d put on the day before, Spain should have had every justification to abandon him right here at this beach house and leave him to find his own way home. …But here he was, present and _gorgeous,_ sleeping peacefully amidst the pristine, white sheets of their shared bed.

Romano looked back out to the haze of dawn. _‘I’ve got to make it up to him.’_

Fifteen minutes later found him washed, clothed, and idly picking through the sparse kitchen cupboards. Romano scoffed as he retracted with a single bottle of dried sage in hand. He wasn’t exactly sure what he expected to find, given that this was a vacation home and both he and Spain avoided canned food as much as possible. He caught sight of a set of keys sitting on the island counter and shrugged, grabbing a napkin and pen to scribble down a quick note. It looked like a trip to the market was in order.

_‘But what to make…?’_ Romano contemplated as he spun the keyring around his finger and descended the shallow wooden steps leading from the house. He unlocked the car with a series of high-pitched _‘beeps’_ and slid inside, taking a moment to adjust the driver’s seat _(‘Damn his long legs…’)._

Then he sat there for a moment, gaze resting on the rose bushes that lined the driveway.

_‘Breakfast?’_

No, he wouldn’t make it back in time. Lunch, then.

_‘Stew?’_

The storm had left the air too humid for that. Something lighter.

_‘…Pasta?’_

Hm. Pasta was always a solid choice, but…

He stuck the keys in the ignition and started the car.

_“Estoy aquí, to arrugao y mis amigos me han dejao de lao, pescao…”_

Romano stared deadpan at the stereo before releasing a single bark of a laugh.

“Well, okay, then!”

 

~*~

 

When Romano returned to the villa, he was greeted with the bright smell of coffee hanging in the air and the sound of the shower running upstairs. Cocking an eyebrow, he unloaded the contents of the tall paper bag he carried and then glanced down at his watch to confirm that yes, it was indeed well past noon. With a shake of his head, Romano migrated the cold items to the fridge, including a beautiful fillet of cod wrapped in parchment paper, and left the rest to sit on the counter.

The ensuite bathroom was filled with steam and the sound of Spain’s humming — not another El Canto del Loco song, Romano was surprised to notice as he toed the door open, but rather a very nostalgic folk song he hadn’t heard in… well, _centuries_.

“Morning, sleeping beauty,” he said, announcing his presence. Spain’s grinning face poked out from behind the shower curtain, hair piled high with soap suds. One of his hands appeared a second later, coaxing him forward; Romano rolled his eyes but smiled as he indulged him in a chaste kiss. 

Spain was wearing an impish expression when they broke apart. “Can you really blame me for sleeping in, after last night?” he said with a wink. “Just getting to the kitchen was a chore! I might have to stay in all day!”

Romano spluttered and turned bright red. He grabbed a dampened washcloth and chucked it lamely at the shower curtain while Spain laughed, unabashed, and slipped back inside. “Have fun at the market?” he asked, effectively changing the subject to escape further retribution.

Huffing away the heat in his cheeks, Romano found a dry hand towel to wipe the condensation off the countertop before he leaned back against it. “Yeah, I got us some food,” he replied.

“Wonderful! I’m starving! Hold on just a second and I’ll make lun—“

“Uh, no,” Romano interrupted. “No, Spain, I…” He cleared his throat and his gaze locked on the door hinge despite there not actually being any eye contact to avoid. _“I_ wanted to make it, this time. To apologize… and to thank you.”

Spain fell quiet from behind the shower curtain, leaving only the sound of running water and the _‘shoosh’_ of the ocean to reverberate off the bathroom tiles. Romano felt his cheeks heat up again, and he crossed his arms, anxious. The steam that hung in the air felt oppressive all of a sudden. He leaned over and pushed the door open wider with his fingertips to let some of it out, wishing he had chosen to wear a shirt of a lighter material.

Then, just as he was about to open his mouth in order to provide more of an explanation, Spain said, absolutely and wholeheartedly, “I love you, Romano.”

Romano’s breath hitched. “…I love you, too,” he replied, voice soft. Relief washed through his chest, and the corners of his eyes began to prickle in response. Shit. “I’m, uh…” He cleared his throat again. “I’m gonna go get started. Come down, uh, whenever, okay?”

“Okay.”

Romano paused at the door, hand braced against the frame, before smiling and heading back down to the kitchen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The song is “El Pescao” by El Canto del Loco  
>  _Pescado_ means _fish_ in Spanish


	5. Schadenfreude

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Day Six: Laughter/Surprise
> 
> Title: Schadenfreude
> 
> Rated T for language

“I want to make this green, how do I do that?”

“Spain.”

“Okay, so here, if you just click this, you see, and then adjust this slider…”

“Spain.”

“Oooooh! And that changes the color for just that one area?”

“Hey, Spain.”

“Yeah, and all these other sliders go to different areas, see?”

_“Spain.”_

_“Yes,_ Romano?” Spain said, straightening to look at his partner, who was leaning against the threshold to the hallway with his arms crossed.

Romano scowled. “What’s going on, here?”

“I’m making a blog!” Spain replied with a grin, gesturing to the laptop before him.

“I can see that,” Romano said curtly, eyes flickering to the screen before redirecting back at Spain. “But what I _mean_ is…” he paused, nose scrunched in contemplation — the very look Spain knew to mean he was searching for a desirable insult, _“…why is there a_ potato bastard _in the study?_ ”

Prussia, who had so far kept his attention to clicking away at the computer, glanced over his shoulder and cocked an eyebrow. “Inventive.”

“Shut up, you’re not worth my brain space.”

Spain moved over to Romano, grabbed his hands, and pulled him closer to the desk. “Prussia’s helping me!” he said. “I thought it looked fun, so why not ask for help from the best, right?”

“Aw, thanks, buddy!” Prussia cooed, turning back to his work.

Romano pursed his lips and appraised the unfinished website.“…What’s it going to be?” he asked after a moment.

“A cute blog!” Spain and Prussia exclaimed in unison.

“…A _what?”_

Spain grinned. “I figured I could share some lighthearted stuff with the internet. Something to give everyone a good laugh! You know — babies, animals, baby animals…”

Romano scoffed and shook his head. “Babies and animals aren’t _funny.”_

Spain and Prussia froze. Both of their jaws dropped. They stared at Romano for a good, long while, before Prussia drew in a shaky breath. “Haha! Very funny one, this guy!” he said around a grin that looked far more like a disbelieving grimace. 

Spain laughed nervously. “Yes, you’re being quite the jokester, Romano! What’s gotten into you!”

“I’m not joking,” Romano deadpanned. 

Prussia gasped as though he’d been shot. Spain reached forward and grabbed Romano by the shoulders. “You… You just haven’t seen the right video, Romano…” he reasoned, eyes wide and voice bordering a plea. _“Let us help you.”_

“Spain, let _go,”_ Romano ground out, squirming to free himself. Spain did so, feeling numb, as Romano stepped back and moved towards the direction of the door. “Look, I really don’t care,” he said with a shrug. “I’m gonna go read.”

And with that, he turned and left the room, leaving Spain and Prussia to stare at each other in shock.

 

~*~

 

The next day launched Spain’s greatest new mission in life.

“Hey, Romano!” Spain called out.

“What?” came the answer from the drawing room.

“Come see this!”

Silence.

“It’ll be quick!” he pressed.

A muffled “Fine,” sounded, and Spain eagerly turned back to the streaming site before him. The paused video of a baby kitten with its stomach getting tickled sat in the middle of the screen, ready to be played.

“Okay. He won’t be able to resist this,” Spain said to himself as he brought the page to full screen.

“What is it?” Romano asked, shuffling in.

“Watch this!” Spain exclaimed, and he clicked on the video with a flourish.

Romano stood there, a typical expression of light skepticism locked onto his face as he stared down at the computer screen. Spain leaned back over the side of his chair to give him a better view, grinning widely and waiting for his reaction. The video ended. Romano glanced at him. 

“Not funny,” he said, and then he turned and left the room.

 

~*~

  

“Hey, Romano,” Spain said. He produced his laptop from its hidden spot on the stool next to him and set it on the table. 

Romano looked up from his bowl of soup and immediately rolled his eyes. “Spain, we’re _eating.”_

“I know, I know, but I need your help!” Spain flipped open the screen, where two small webpages were already positioned side-by-side. “I need to choose between one or the other, and I’m having a hard time! Can you help me?”

Romano quirked an eyebrow, but then huffed and scooted his own stool closer. “Fine.”

Spain clapped his hands together in victory. “Okay, I want you to tell me which one is funnier,” he requested. Then, he hit play on the first video. 

Five minutes. A cat jumping through a box, and then a baby laughing while ripping paper. How could _anyone_ resist?

Romano sat stock-still through the duration of both. When the last one finished, he looked at Spain out of the corner of his eye. The smallest, self-satisfied smirk unfurled across his lips. “Neither,” he answered. “They’re _both not funny.”_

Spain stared at him in horror as Romano moved his stool back to its previous spot and resumed his lunch.

 

~*~

 

“Romano!” Spain called out from the second story window.

“No,” Romano responded. Spain looked down to find him huddled over a small garden box, tending to a growing vine of cherry tomatoes.

“Please!”

“I know what you want, and _no._ I’m done humoring you,” Romano said with a grunt as he pulled out a deep-rooted weed.

“…What if I give you a kiss!”

“You kiss me all the time.”

Spain cursed, retreating and glancing at his computer, where he had pulled up a video of a hamster running on its wheel and then falling off in slow motion. He paced the room for a minute, thinking, before an idea clicked into his brain and he hurried back to the window.

“I’ve got a bottle of Gattinara in the cellar — 2004. Come up here, and it’s all yours.”

Romano stilled, half-bent over the garden, before he slowly turned to look up at Spain’s grinning face. He pursed his lips, squinting. Then, he plucked off his gloves, removed his straw hat, and set both down on the patio railing.

“…I’ll be up in five.”

 

~*~

 

“I just don’t get it,” Spain bemoaned as he let his head drop into his hands. He leaned back in his tall desk chair in defeat. “How can he _not_ find babies and animals funny!”

Prussia clapped a hand on Spain’s head and ruffled his hair. “I think you should call it quits, man,” he said sagely. “He’s obviously a lost cause.”

Spain’s shoulders slumped, feeling absolutely dejected.

“Let’s get back to work!” Prussia continued. He puffed out his chest and grinned. “You haven’t posted anything yet, right? Let’s make your first one totally awesome!”

Spain looked up at his best friend with a grateful smile, and together they set to sifting through the internet.

Half an hour in, Romano strolled by the study, swirling a glass of the wine he had carefully saved from the night before. He paused in the doorway. “You guys are _still_ working on that thing?”

“It’s a delicate process,” Prussia responded with utmost sincerity, attention trained on the computer screen.

Romano _“humph”_ ed and entered out of what Spain assumed was a lack of anything better to do. He stopped beside the chair rested a hand on its back as he bent forward to watch on. Spain and Prussia looked at each other, shrugged, and continued with their work.

On the screen was a video of some miniature goats playing in a field. Hm. Cute, Spain thought, but not exactly what he was looking for—

Suddenly, the man behind the camera let out a sharp yell, and the goats _scattered._ Three of them stiffened and fell over onto their sides as though they had been petrified. One of the smaller goats let out a feeble, whimpering bleat.

“HA!” Romano barked. “That’s a riot!”

_“Romano!_ Don’t be laugh at the poor goa—!” 

Spain cut himself off with a gasp. He and Prussia whipped around to stare at Romano, who was still sniggering as he reached over to press the replay button. _“You think it’s funny!”_ Spain exclaimed.

“Damn right! Look at those little fuckers go! Fucking hilarious!”

Spain and Prussia exchanged disbelieving glances. “Schadenfreude… Of _course,”_ Prussia said, shaking his head. “Should’ve known.”

“Ew. No German in the house,” Romano shot back in distaste as he started the video for a third time.

“It’s _my_ house,” Spain rebutted, but grinned as he watched Romano’s smirk light up in the glow of the monitor. 

Looks like he’d found the content for his first blog post.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Unfortunately I was running out of El Canto del Loco songs to tie these together, so I think I'll just have this and the next one be without. It was fun for the first four, though!


End file.
